Mass Effect 3: Paladins of Typhon
by Seracen Beta
Summary: New trouble looms for our heroes in the wake of ME3 (modified Destroy Ending, Synthetics Alive). The legacies of the Reaper War still linger, as a silent civil war brews amidst reconstruction of the Galaxy. This is a story of espionage and battle that will span the entire universe!
1. Chapter 1

Mass Effect (3.5?) : Paladins of Typhon

Author's Notes:

Hello there everyone. Thanks for reading my work. I hope you enjoy it! At any rate, please read my rendition of ME3's ending (ME3: Requiem) to get a feel for the background here.

If you aren't interested, basically I am playing loose with the lore. If we reference the games only, I'm doing a hybrid of the "Control" and "Destroy" endings, basically the "best/happiest" parts of each (pretty much Destroy but without synthetics dying). In reality, I am still going to be referencing my own fic.

If you do reference my earlier work, I am working off the assumption that all the "best" choices were made, mainly the "A Branches" of each chapter I wrote. I will also be assuming that Shepard managed to successfully romance either Jack, or Liara, or even both.

Why both? Mainly because I'm lazy, and don't feel like picking. Also, it's fantasy, and Bioware setup a relationship like this in a previous work, Jade Empire. Moreover, these two are characters that might actually go for a relationship like this. It's the future, I imagine all sorts of relationships exist that defy modern convention (just think...if we find alien cat people...those of us among the anime cultural subset will have found the apogee of our dating careers).

Anyway, some housecleaning to get you into the mindset of how I've crafted "Crichton Shepard" and his journey through the ME trilogy, leading up to this work…

Name: Crichton Shepard, now a Captain (Navy) /Major (Marine), ME ranks differ from standard military

Class: started off as Engineer from ME1; then Lazarus unlocked latent biotics, so Sentinel in ME2

(in ME3, I played an Engineer with Slam for the bonus perk, so this is how I Role Play it)

Origin: Colonist, saved Talitha

Military Background: War Hero, killed Elanos Haliat

Mainly Paragon, with a Renegade streak.

ME1: saved Feros colony and Shiala, saved Rachni Queen, saved Wrex, killed Kaidan, let Balak go, saved Council, recommended Anderson to Council

Other choices: saved Toombs, reformed Helena Blake, received the Consort's gift, Romanced Liara

ME2: all squadmates loyal, all crew survived, chose Samara/killed Morinth, destroyed Collector Base

Other choices: resolved Feros contract, killed Vido, kept gray-box, kept Maelon alive, Romanced Jack

Also having Samara be drinking buddies with Thane (not QUITE a romance, but a close kinship)

ME3: cured Genophage, Mordin died, saved Rachni Queen (again), peace between the Geth/Quarians, recruited the Batarian remnant fleets, Control/Destroy hybrid ending (read ME3: Requiem).

Chapter 1

The land was broken and shattered. Burned out buildings smoldered, gray dust billowing in the wind.

Three humans lay huddled against a crumbling wall, taking shelter from the blazing hell that surrounded them. From almost every side, alien, shambling figures closed distance, raining down fire on the position of the haggard soldiers.

Brushing aside the matted black hair from his eyes, former Corporal Toombs grimaced at the slate gray skies, blinking against the irregular pulsating light emanating from the broken violet sun on the horizon.

"Damn sunlight's tearing through our shields," Toombs cursed, rising from cover to fire at the abominations bearing down on them.

"I can't believe it," spat the man beside him, "what kind of weapons can these damn Reapers leftovers have to cause something like this?!"

The woman to Toombs' left screamed in fury, as she unloaded her clip into the rushing husks, necrotic gray shells of what had once been living Humans and Vorcha.

She cursed as she dropped back down, "if I'd known that Wade, maybe my squad wouldn't have died pulling this evac."

Toombs shook his head, "we need to get going, before we join them."

The woman nodded several meters away, "may as well be a mile to that dropship, I'm empty."

The former Alliance officer shook his head.

"Loading platform is down, so we can make a break for it. That, or we die here."

He glanced to either side, receiving nods.

"Retreating fire," said Wade, "I'll cover you."

In unison, the three stood up, making an organized retreat for the spacecraft nearby.

Shots blazed by, searing the air around Toombs. He heard the woman to his left cry out, blood escaping her shoulder as a round pierced the armor plating.

Toombs cursed the sunlight, wreaking havoc on their barriers. He hefted the woman by her good arm, helping her onto the landing pad.

"Cannibal!" yelled Wade, "Grenade!"

Before Toombs could react, a blast shook him, flinging him like a rag doll. His ears were ringing, head pounding like a drum.

He shook his head, helping his wounded comrade up, getting her into the open platform on the back of the ship.

"I'll fire up the engines!" she yelled, shaking off his help as she limped inside.

Toombs turned to see Wade lying unconscious. He grabbed the young soldier by the arm, pulling him securely into the ship, collapsing backwards with a grunt as the vessel's engines shuddered.

He exhausted his clip as the docking doors began to close. A hail of gunfire issued from beyond the ship, blinding him. The blasts hammered against his shields, the shock of the impacts driving the breath from him, before the door finally closed.

Finally, Toombs felt the drop in his gut, signaling that the ship had started take-off.

All around the ship, dozens of creatures ceased their fire, as a larger monstrosity, an armored Ravager, trained its giant sights on the escaping ship.

Behind the cohort, a lone figure, wrapped in a dark shroud, took aim with a large shoulder canon. It's four eyes glowed blue, waspish wings twitching wrathfully.

The tall biped took a deep breath, grunting in disdain before firing into the Ravager, the blast radius vaporizing the battalion of husks and cannibals surrounding it.

On the wrecked surface of Haestrom, a living Collector, perhaps the Galaxy's last, looked on as the craft carrying the human survivors rose into the atmosphere, before turning to find a more space worthy vessel…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_ All Shepard could feel was pain. His hands were burnt; the armor on his body was melted, seared to his flesh. He could smell only his own roasting meat, as he ran through an ashen forest. Flakes of soot fell from a dull, gray sky, as he searched for the source of the screaming…_

_ He'd been in this forest before, countless times before, it seemed. Yet, somehow, Shepard couldn't find his way, fumbling about in despair…where was that voice coming from? Where was the girl crying out his name?_

_ As he crested a hill, Shepard caught sight of a young girl, no more than six years of age. She looked so familiar…_

_ Several dark shadows gathered around her, shrieking feverishly at the frightened girl. Shepard growled his rage, scaring off the shadows. As he reached the girl, he reached out a broken hand, beginning to remember who she was…_

_ As their fingers touched, the little girl in front of him crumbled, a frigid wind carrying her away like grains of sand. Shepard began to scream in agony, as his outstretched arm began to crack and fall apart like cheap glass…_

Shepard woke with a start, his body awash in a cold sweat. He cradled his head in his hands, massaging his temples, trying to remember again where he was.

A gruff sound to his left jarred Shepard from his reverie. He glanced sideway, catching sight of the lithe, naked body of the tattooed woman lying beneath the covers. Though only someone suicidal would call it a snore, her breathing broke through the nightmare, forcing a smile from his lips.

A rustling from his right drew Shepard's attention. He carefully drew himself from beneath the covers, drawing a shiver from the other woman beside him. He softly covered her supple blue skin with the sheet, caressing her thigh, before extricating himself through the foot of the bed.

Shepard silently trekked from his bedroom into the adjoining bathroom, splashing water in his face to chase away the phantoms of his fitful dreams. He carefully investigated his reflection, noticing the slight scars from his reconstruction. He dried himself before getting on a pair of sweatpants, flexing his hands.

He spread his right palm out in front of him, trying to hear the whir of the servomechanisms that made up his body. Though he knew that most of his bones had been replaced with metal, he didn't feel so much as a creak. Shepard couldn't decide whether to be grateful, or chagrined.

As was his wont, the soldier pushed passed his worries, looking forward to his morning workout, anything to take his mind off things…

Shepard walked out of the bathroom through a side door, making his way into the stairwell overlooking the flat. The windows of the apartment tinted against the sunlight shining in. Shepard basked in the warmth of it, making his way down the stairs. He ignored the view of the Citadel outside his flat. Shepard was still getting used to seeing Earth on the far horizon, beyond the outskirts of the wings; which constituted what had to be largest space station ever created.

'Never mind the fact that it houses a population rivaling most planets,' thought Shepard wryly, 'and half of THEM the damn politicians that run said planets…'

Shepard threw aside all thoughts, clearing his mind as he stepped onto the workout mat of the sunroom. He started off with a standard hundred each of pushups and crunches, before squaring off against the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Sweat dripped in rivulets from his face, running in streams down the straining muscles of his bare torso. As he punched away his frustrations against the bag, he started to imagine the ghostly images from his dreams…recalling memories of his childhood. Those memories turned to the razing of Mindoir, everything he had ever known drowning in flames; the vision melded into the fires that had consumed him on Elysium, during the Skylian Blitz.

Something from beyond his field of vision caught Shepard's attention, and he spun, thrusting out his left arm in a spinning backhand…

A bare blue arm caught his attack, a biotic field flashing along the smooth skin, diffusing the force of the attack.

Liara winced slightly, a look of concern in her face, as she studied Shepard. The biotic field slowly dissipated, leaving her in her black tank top and matching shorts.

Shepard blinked several times, as if only just remembering where he was again. His eyes widened in shock.

"Liara, are you alright?"

She looked at him for a moment, admiring the view, before shaking her head and throwing a towel at his face, "it will take more than that to take me down."

Shepard nodded, as he patted himself down with the cloth, "sorry, I was just zoning out for a moment there."

"Nightmares again?" she asked, her smile turning once more into a frown of concern.

"Just tension," he asserted, shaking off the question and making his way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of juice from the steel refrigerator, "got a meeting with the Council today, after all."

"Hmm, I'm sure," followed Liara, "where to now?"

Shepard grunted, putting on a light tee shirt, "going to test some side-arms. If I run into another holdout of Remnant…"

Liara nodded. In the wake of the Reaper War, civilization, under the Citadel races, had won. However, the victory had not been without cost, and many remnants of the Reaper forces still plagued some of the outlying planets. Without any actual Reapers to Indoctrinate and subvert more subjects through mind control, the danger was limited. Still, the Remnant, those already under the thrall of the Reapers, remained a threat.

"I don't like you going out there," replied Liara, "we don't know what the Remnant are up to."

"The Council is sure that they are just operating on instinct," said Shepard, without much conviction.

Liara responded with a chiding look, which drew a smirk from the Spectre.

A loud yawn broke through their conversation, and both of them turned to see Jack stretching as she walked down the stairs. Her eyes were half-closed, a loose fitting red silk robe barely covering her tattooed, and otherwise naked, body.

"You two are still too damn busy in the mornings," she groaned, brushing dark auburn hair from her eyes, as she raided the fridge, "where's the meat? Ah…"

She emerged with her spoils, throwing the meal onto a plate and placing it into a microwave. A few moments later, Jack grabbed her food, then collapsed down into a chair, stretching as self-contentedly as a cat.

Liara laughed, "good morning to you as well. Are you heading off to the Cube already?"

Jack snorted, speaking through mouthfuls of food, "yeah, I can't believe they made me a damn instructor there."

Shepard shrugged, "you seem to be doing well, and your work at Grissom Academy was already well known."

She rolled her eyes in reply, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you landed me that job just to keep me around."

Shepard gave her an innocent look, raising his arms in faux-confusion.

Jack glared for a moment, before breaking into laughter, "alright fine, you bastard, it's actually pretty fun. One of my students even followed me down here. He'll make a pretty good instructor himself, in a few years."

"How's young David handling things?" asked Liara.

Last time she'd met David Archer, he had been with the other students at Grissom Academy, under attack by Cerberus. The first time Shepard had met him, Liara had heard, the poor boy had been used in experiments in controlling AI, such as the Geth. She couldn't imagine the mental fortitude required to bounce back from something that horrific.

The tattooed woman nodded, "he's doing much better. It's thanks to him that we've got a tech division at the Cube in the first place. It was mainly a biotic training gym before."

Shepard nodded, at least some other good had come of his involvement with Cerberus, now young David would have a life to call his own.

"Heard he left a sweetheart back at Grissom Academy though."

Jack shrugged, "he'll get back on the next shore leave. By the way, I expect to see you there today before you go in to see the Council."

Shepard groaned, "I really don't need any training Jack, I'll be fine."

"The fuck you say," countered Jack, "sure, you've got power. Any fool can see that, what with blowing the Collectors to hell, then taking on the Reapers."

"So what's the problem?" demanded Shepard, already knowing the answer.

"The problem," answered Liara, "is that you're latent biotic abilities didn't come into full swing until Cerberus…reconstructed you."

"Right, the 'upgrades,'" sighed Shepard.

"Besides that," continued Jack, "you fucking died. And from the minute you were vertical again, you didn't take one second to get a shakedown, not even after the end of the Reaper War."

Shepard grinned, "I think the both of you shook me down plenty."

Jack arched an eyebrow, refusing to be derailed, "cute, but I still need to run you through some biotic skills training, get a feel for your level. You need to know your own limits, if you're going to get into a fight."

"Besides," added Liara, "nobody's been in your…predicament before. We need to be sure…"

Shepard raised his hands in exasperation, "by God you two! Fine, you win! How the hell am I supposed to argue with the both of you?!"

Both women smirked in triumph, raising glasses to each other.

Shepard grunted to hide a chuckle, turning to get his ID badge, "well, I'm off to the C-Sec gun range, I'll see you at the Cube later."

"I'll be right behind you," said Liara, "I need to try out a few new weapons as well."

Shepard nodded, making his way out the door.

After he had left, Liara moved over to a seat at the table across from Jack. The Asari sighed, running her hand through her head crests.

"The dreams again, huh?" asked Jack.

Liara nodded, "why won't he tell us about them?"

Jack shrugged, "things he's been through, I'm not surprised. Take it from me, that shit's not easy to talk about. I spent most my life trying to forget…"

"But that's what we're here for," Liara said in frustration, "doesn't he trust-"

Jack placed her hand over Liara's, squeezing them reassuringly, "hey, don't do that to yourself. You know it isn't that."

Liara looked up at her, "you didn't see the look on his face…when he found out what had been done to him."

She fought back tears, "Goddess, just seeing what was left of him after…"

The woman lifted Liara's chin, "that wasn't your fault. Shepard came back to you, to us. Nothing can change that. He'll tell us when he's ready."

Liara smiled, softly resting Jack's hand back on the table, "I know…trust him, right? How could I not?"

Jack smirked, "I did take him away from you for a year."

"Well, I wasn't with him for the Collector Base," replied Liara, "so, considering you brought him back to both of us, alive, I think I can forgive you."

The Asari kissed Jack's hand, before rising, "better get to the firing range before it's too late."

"I'll see you at the Cube," nodded Jack.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Outside the orbit of Haestrom…

On the escape ship, Toombs shook his head, wincing as he noticed the wound in his side. He clamped down on it, his good left hand closing the slash in a vise. He fumbled with his last syringe of medigel, injecting it into the gash, the biofoam barely managing to seal the wound.

Toombs nodded, it would do for now, "Close call, huh Wade?"

His comrade remained silent, prompting him to turn, "hey Wade…"

Toombs breathed sharply as he caught sight of his friend. Only half of the young man had made it into the ship. The bottom half was still lying back down on the planet's surface.

"Wade…damn…"

Toombs shook his head, realizing that, for the second time in his life, he'd lost his entire squad…almost…

He turned, crawling to his feet, stumbling his way into the co-pilot's seat. He collapsed, taking a moment to stare aimlessly into the space beyond the display windows of the cockpit.

He turned, "never thought I'd say this to a Cerberus agent, but thanks."

The pilot glanced sidelong at him, "hey, we're called Orthos now, Alliance Special Ops. We're sanctioned by the Council, so I don't need your shit."

Toombs raised a placating hand, "I know, I'm sorry. We both lost good soldiers down there…"

"Good," she nodded in reply, "now, time for the bad news…"

"Is there any other kind?"

"Haha," she replied sardonically, "so we're out of medigel, and this bucket won't make FTL. A blast damaged the mass effect generators on the way off planet."

Toombs pinched the bridge of his nose, "so what, we drift until someone finds us?"

"Sort of, we aren't too far from the trading lanes. So, we book it toward Omega, hope we get picked up along the way."

The man glanced at the Orthos operative solemnly, "we may not make that run, if Vorcha or Batarian slavers get us first."

"True," she agreed calmly, "and we need to send out the info we got planet-side."

Toombs reached into a pouch, pulling out a data stick with shuddering hand. He slid the device into a communications port on the terminal in front of him, dialing an address he thought he'd never have occasion to use again.

He took a deep breath before beginning his message, "Shepard…it's me, Corporal Toombs. You…saved my life a few years back, don't know if you remember, as you've been saving lot of them lately…"

"Time I returned the favor," he continued, "I'm…sorry about the message I sent before…I don't think anyone realized the truth. I'm glad you saw your way through, in the end. The info I'm sending you is CRUCIAL…"

He stopped short, unsure what to say…

"Captain, it's worse than we feared," continued the Orthos operative, "the Reaper remnants are organized somehow, and engaged in active research. We couldn't decipher it. I will be sending a copy of this to Director Lawson."

Toombs turned to her, nodding his thanks as he cut the transmission. He laughed hopelessly, "the message can go out FTL, even if WE can't…"

"We'll be fine…"

"Uh huh," grunted Toombs eyelids feeling heavy, "wake me up if anything happens…"

Considering the shock, he was surprised he'd stayed awake as long as he had. Toombs heard the pilot murmuring as he drifted off into sweet oblivion…

After a criminally short interim, he awoke to a giant shuddering. The hull around him reverberated.

Toombs growled in rage, "hey, what the hell?!"

He shook his head to kick-start his thinking, realizing he didn't know his companion's name.

The man turned to ask, noticing that the woman was hunched over in her chair, arm dangling lifelessly at her side, blood dripping down it into a large pool at her feet.

It took a moment to register that she was dead, probably from a wound he hadn't seen. It took another second to get angry, realizing he'd used the last of the medigel. Another instant brought sorrow, knowing that he'd never get to ask her name now…

He next turned to look outside the cockpit, only then noticing two ships warring silently outside. Toombs laughed at the absurdity of it. Of all things, it was a pirate ship that had found them. They'd been "rescued" by the Vorcha.

However, it was the larger ship, almost the size of a comet, which caused his gut to seize. Toombs had seen representations of Collector ships before. The Collector's were dead, but that wouldn't stop whatever controlled the remnant Reaper forces. They'd splay him open on an operating table, like those poor souls he'd seen on Haestrom.

That is, if he weren't rescued by the damn Vorcha and sold into slavery. Toombs laughed again, hoping Shepard would get the message….he had to get the message.

Not knowing why, Toombs clasped hands with the dead Orthos woman, "well, we did what we could girl. I can't thank you enough for getting me out of that hell…"

He tapped a few keys on his terminal, ignoring the whines of the ship's engines, as he forced the vessel's mass effect generators to overload. A bright light devoured the ship, as he steered it toward the mammoth vessel.

Toombs closed his eyes, feeling almost calm as explosions rocked the ship.

A voice in his head played a now famous quote, said back on Earth by a journalist, during the dawn of the Reaper War.

_'You want to see how a human dies? At ramming speed…'_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Shepard jogged through the streets of the Citadel, ignoring the glaring neon signs and commercial displays. He took a smug satisfaction at the inability of the ads to identify him properly, a minor perk of being a SPECTRE, the Council's justice (and being clinically dead for some time probably had something to do with it).

It was more difficult to ignore the salutes and awestruck pedestrians who managed to notice him. He politely wished his greeters a healthy morning, returning salutes from the soldiers he saw on duty.

Finally Shepard made his way to the C-Sec offices, moving past them to the SPECTRE training and requisitions wing. The doors opened, automatically recognizing his bioscans. He grabbed a pair of goggles on his way through the steel walls of the hallway.

Shepard cued up a selection of guns, trying out new modifications to a Black Widow sniper rifle. The beast of a gun weighed half as much as he did, and was almost as tall. He squared his shoulders against the stock, taking aim at an armored target, before firing.

The damn thing kicked like a mule, and was made to take out armored vehicles. Most normal humans could easily have shattered a collarbone, or at least broken an arm, firing the gun. The SPECTRE wasn't sure he liked being able to. Shepard hadn't been normal ever since he'd died, his new body reinforced with a metal endoskeleton.

Shepard shook his head, trying a different sniper rifle, a Valiant this time. Sure he could carry the Widow, but the monster was too heavy. Like the Black Widow, the new weapon had a clip, so he didn't have to empty the slide between shots. He also preferred the Valiant's faster reload time, as it was more valuable to him when dealing with scores of Remnant husks.

He added another mod to the barrel, firing once more into the target. The Valiant kicked, though not nearly as hard as the Widow. Shepard glanced at the readouts, pleased at the results.

The SPECTRE turned as he heard the door cycle open. Liara entered, wearing goggles around her face as well. She grabbed smaller implement from the rack of weapons, a Hornet submachine gun.

Shepard nodded in approval as Liara braced herself for the recoil, managing to empty an entire burst from the short SMG into the center of the target.

She turned to Shepard, "I know pistols already, and I've been getting practice with these, but I want something with more stopping power."

He nodded, turning to the shotguns, "I think Tali was showing you around some of her favorites last time, yes?"

Liara nodded.

Shepard then turned to the assault rifles, "then let's get you acquainted with the workhorse of a soldier's arsenal."

He grabbed a lighter weapon, the Vindicator.

"We aren't going to try a sniper rifle?" asked the Asari.

Shepard shook his head, "save it for Garrus. A lot goes into preparing to use a weapon like that. We'll have time for that, but this is a good start."

Liara nodded, "and besides, perhaps I could get the Turian sniping master to teach me, right?"

He scoffed in mock dismay, "don't tell HIM that, he'd never shut up about it."

Shepard handed Liara the weapon, drawing up behind her, as he placed her arms in the appropriate places along the gun.

She fired the Vindicator, shuddering under the burst fire of the weapon. Liara cursed silently.

"It's got more kick than the Hornet," offered Shepard, adjusting her hold, "take your time, compensate for the recoil."

Liara nodded, taking aim again before firing. This time, she hit the outer rings of the target.

"Good," said Shepard, "try out a few mods, see what you like. Not bad at all."

The Asari grinned, easing her hips back against Shepard, resting against his firm body, "mmm, well, I have a good teacher."

He shook his head, "and I'm sure your…extra curricular pursuits with a certain clandestine organization had nothing to do with it."

Liara, known to some as the Shadow Broker, simply laughed, "perish the thought."

She sighed, as Shepard nuzzled against her neck. She gyrated her hips slightly in response to his ministrations, before breaking off, "alright, enough target practice…"

He grinned in reply, placing away his guns, "what, you have another target in mind?"

Liara cocked her head to the side playfully, "maybe later, after we get back from the Cube."

Shepard avoided rolling his eyes, barely, "fine, fine, slave driver…"

The Asari laughed in reply, "I think you'll find Jack to be a more apt fit for that title…"

The Cube was a large facility, a place to hone the finest minds in the field of biotics and tech-based skills. Enrollment was open to all, and engaged students of all races in puzzles, critical thinking, and, of course, disciplined martial arts (according to their talents).

Some individuals, such as Shepard, could actually engage in both fields of activity, as their bodies were accustomed to both biotic and tech-based amps. Currently, the SPECTRE was engaged in combat with two of the most powerful biotics ever to grace the facility, one of which had left sanity behind long ago.

Shepard ducked low as a biotic Push flew over his head, bringing up his left arm to fling gouts of flame from his tech amps. His omnitool heated up, as its nanoforge technology manufactured the attack. He immediately felt the drain as the apparatus fed on the energy stored in his muscles, causing them to burn slightly from fatigue.

Another biotic field struck him from behind, as Liara lifted him with her abilities. Shepard turned in midair, focusing on her, flinging a biotic Slam of his own in her direction.

The air around him began to crackle, and Shepard cursed, as his own biotics reacted with Liara's attack, setting off a detonation that flung the both of them like dolls. Shepard's eyes rolled back, and he shook his head, instinctually getting to his feet.

He heard the torrent of a biotic Shockwave bearing down on him, and engaged the adrenaline reserves in his body. The cybernetics in his system injected a chemical cocktail into his bloodstream, the ability a passing gift from his reconstruction at the hands of Cerberus.

This rush of energy honed Shepard's instincts, as everything seemed to slow down. This, in turn, allowed him enough time to get a running start, and finally, to jump over the Shockwave. The reverberations still racked his body, though not at full force.

Shepard caught sight of his other assailant, Jack, and gathered biotic power in his right arm, crashing down at her with his fist outstretched. The Nova blast rocked the area around him, but Jack had already backpedaled. The force knocked her from her feet, and she biotically flung a series of nearby crates at Shepard.

For several moments, Shepard and Jack exchanged blows, and finally an attack got through Shepard's defenses. A crate slammed against Shepard. He rolled with the impact, but found himself flat on his back.

On instinct, he brought up his left arm again, priming an electric Overload as Jack brought her boot to rest on his chest. Her arm was raised, biotics flaring along her fist, as Shepard held his own blast, a humming issuing from the tech amp in his left hand.

Slowly, the two fighters calmed, sweat dripping from their foreheads. Jack grinned at Shepard, offering an arm. He clasped it, as the woman helped him to his feet. As Shepard was shaking off the weariness of the exercise, Jack slapped him across the face.

"THAT was for relying so much on your tech implants," she commented.

Before he could reply, she sealed his lips with a kiss, her smoldering tongue seeking purchase against his own. Shepard felt himself flush with heat again, before Jack broke off the kiss, grinning wryly.

"But your biotics are solid," she continued, "maybe we'll have to think of a way to reward you."

Liara chuckled, throwing a cloth to each of them, "go easy you two. I'd hate to have to carry you out."

Shepard glanced from Liara to Jack, shaking his head in exasperation, "well, if you both are quite through bashing my head in for morning exercises, I've got a council meeting to head off to."

Jack laughed, "yeah yeah, get going, I think we've drawn enough of a crowd for one day."

The SPECTRE turned to look out the reinforced windows of the gym they were in. Quite an audience had formed in the viewing catwalks above, as well as behind the safety glass beyond the room's exit.

He shook his head, seeing the awed faces of the youngsters who were slowly entering the room for the next training session, "well, go easy on your next class, okay?"

"In your dreams boyscout," quipped Jack, "I have my rep to think about."

Liara smirked, leading Shepard away, "we'll see you at home."

Jack nodded, turning to the next class of students, many of whom began to visibly wilt as Jack began her tirade, "alright kids, LESSON NUMBER ONE-"

"Think they'll be okay?" asked Shepard, once they were in the hallways, out of earshot.

Liara smiled, "she loves her students, even if she seems a bit harsh."

"The Instructor takes care of us," came a voice from the side.

Shepard and Liara turned to see a young man, dressed in the black and red fatigues of Grissom Academy.

"David!" exclaimed the Asari, "I heard you'd followed Jack from Grissom Academy, to train students."

The SPECTRE felt his spirits lighten, seeing the young man alive and well. Young David Archer had been a puppet, prone to horrible experiments at the hands of the R&D division of Cerberus. He shuddered to recall the state of the boy, tethered to tubes and sockets invading every aspect of his body…all of it done for a way to control the Geth.

Looking back on it, Shepard should have realized then that Cerberus had gone too far. He pushed those memories aside, a more common necessity these days, and forced himself back into the present.

"How is teaching at the Cube treating you?"

Archer smiled in reply, "I'm enjoying it here. Lot's of work, lot's of new solutions. Besides, the Instructor took care of me…I wanted to keep her safe."

Liara grinned at the thought of the precocious young man protecting a living typhoon like Jack, "I'm sure she appreciates that."

David nodded, "and I owed it to you, for saving my life."

Shepard patted Archer on the shoulder, "you never have to thank me David; you know that."

The young man nodded, "won't keep you…good day."

Liara sighed as they walked out of the training facility, "good to see him moving on."

Shepard couldn't believe how resilient the lad was. Not three years ago, the boy had been subject to horrors that would have broken a battle-hardened Krogan.

"The galaxy has a lot of scars," he said, "it'll take time to heal."

"We'll get there," Liara placed her hands in his, squeezing reassuringly, "meanwhile, you've got a date with the human councilor."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Councilor Sanders had once been simply "Kahlee Sanders," just another scientist working at a set of dusty ruins. Although the daughter of a famous Admiral, she'd been of no consequence to anyone, and happy to remain that way.

Then she'd met David Anderson, and her life had never been the same since. Together, they'd taken on the war criminal Saren Arterius, before anyone had known of his Indoctrination at the hands of the Reapers.

They'd faced down Aria T'Loak as well, the "Pirate Queen of Omega" herself. Then, not even a year later, Cerberus had come knocking on her door, aiming to kill her and take all the hard work she had done on Grissom Academy. Frankly she was surprised to still be alive.

Kahlee sighed, shaking her head as she put away the picture in her hand. It didn't seem fair that she should be alive, when David was gone. They'd made a memorial to him, on Earth and the Citadel. They'd even turned her into a Councilor, so she could continue his work. But none of it changed the fact that he was still gone…

A gentle knock at the door shook the Councilor from her reverie.

"Come in," she announced, looking forward to a meeting for a change.

A man in a crisp black suit walked in. His hair was cut close to the scalp line, in clean, military fashion. He stood at attention, waiting for her cue.

Kahlee shook her head, "Captain Crichton Shepard, haven't I told you not to be so formal around me?"

The man smirked in reply, "as a SPECTRE in the service of the Alliance, I can't very well disrespect the human Councilor, now can I?"

Sanders rolled her eyes, "damn it Shepard, you'd be an Admiral, if you weren't so stubborn; and I'd be just as happy to never meet you in an official capacity at all, barring State dinners."

The SPECTRE snorted, taking a seat across the table from Sanders, "which is why I never took the posting. Could you really see me at board meetings?"

The Councilor rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair, "this from a man who, on TWO separate occasions, brokered peace treaties between species at war for centuries…and saved my life."

"I can't allow myself to be so conceited, simply because I helped save the Galaxy."

Kahlee couldn't help but laugh, "oh, and you're so humble as well…"

Shepard shrugged, "of course I am, otherwise I'd have brought attention to the fact that I'd saved the Galaxy three times, instead of just the once."

This is why she enjoyed talking with him; he was one of the few people she could be herself with. Kahlee considered Shepard as a brother. He'd been a protégé of David, and was the only other being who knew the man, rather than the legend.

The thought sobered her, "he'd have been proud of you."

Shepard grew silent, eyes growing distant, "he was…it was the last thing he…ever said, actually."

Kahlee looked down at her hands. The both of them had been so busy with the work and accolades after the Reaper War, they hadn't had time to discuss the aftermath.

She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes, "you were with him then?"

He nodded, "we talked about building families. He thought I'd have made a great father."

Sanders smiled, it sounded like David. Shepard had been the son he'd never had.

"That was all?"

"I figured he'd certainly earned a rest," replied Shepard, "he…had a smile on his face."

Kahlee nodded, sighing deeply, "thank you…"

"He was certainly happy to leave politics behind. I can respect the sentiment. So, what are we in for at the Council meeting?"

Sanders blinked several times. She silently thanked him, glad for an excuse to clear her head.

"About your appeal to the Salarian Dalatrassy…"

"There's nothing to discuss," countered Shepard, "I saw the evidence with my own eyes. Ask Major Kirrahe, he'll vouch for me."

"It's not as simple as that," she replied," we need more evidence."

"My omnitool recorded plenty. Barring that, I've also got evidence that Linron, the head of the Salarian government herself, tried to blackmail me into sabotaging the Genophage cure."

"About that," started Kahlee, "did you know that Krogan birth rates haven't risen as high as we projected?"

Shepard quirked his head to the side, "what, I thought the cure removed the frequency of still births?"

Kahlee nodded, "it did, but the Krogan aren't producing the large clutch sizes that they were once known for. The females are birthing maybe a dozen, or half that, versus the hundreds they did before."

"They only produced one viable offspring in a hundred before anyway, so it's an improvement," reasoned Shepard, "and I thought the Council races were concerned with Krogan overgrowth."

"They were," answered Sanders, "but this new birth cycle renders it a moot problem. The Krogan are satisfied with the result, as it IS an improvement."

"But?"

"But," continued the Councilor, "if we let it be known that Dalatrass Linron approached you, to sabotage the cure…"

"The war hawks in the Krogan union will think I went for it," scoffed Shepard, "Wrek and Bakara would never believe that. I showed them the evidence."

Kahlee nodded, "and they never shared the knowledge with the other Krogan. They know their own people. It will take years for them to grow out of their hatreds, both against each other and the rest of the Galaxy."

"So, we can't use the evidence I found," sighed Shepard, "what will we do about stopping the Salarian testing on Yahg and Varren? We're looking at another rebellion here, one that would eclipse the Krogan Wars."

Sanders clasped her hands, resting her chin on them, "how about your contacts in the Salarian STG?"

Shepard shook his head, "I've been trying to contact Padok Wiks for weeks now. I haven't seen him since Sur'Kesh."

"Hence why we haven't been able to reach Kirrahe, who went looking for him."

The SPECTRE shrugged, "he'll get it done, and I have a few cards left to play…anything else?"

"Yes, Garrus has joined the ranks of the SPECTRES."

He grinned, "about time. I figured he was getting bored at C-Sec."

"The Council got some urgent news," continued Kahlee, "we'll be sending the both of you on an important series of missions…"

Shepard glanced at his wristwatch, "the session starts soon, anything you care to tell me now?"

She shook her head, "I promised I wouldn't, and Councilor Aethyta always tells me I need to work on my poker face."

He laughed, "don't feel bad, she's got nearly a thousand years on you. The rest of us can't tell."

Kahlee sobered again, "Shepard, this isn't a laughing matter…we'll be putting you through the ringer again. I hope you're ready."

Shepard got to his feet, issuing a crisp salute, "always, ma'am."

She shook her head, getting to her feet as well, "no Crichton, friends do this…"

The Councilor offered her hand. Shepard glanced down at it, gripping it firmly before shaking it.

They both had work to do…


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The Citadel Security forces were responsible for keeping order on an installation the size of a planet. With so many different races and cultures filtering through the Citadel on a daily basis, diplomatic nightmares seemed to be a daily occurrence.

C-Sec Commander Armando Owen-Bailey sat in his swivel chair, staring out the bulletproof glass at the Presidium, and all the embassies housed within. He didn't see the shimmering lake, nor the exotic plants imported from hundreds of planets. All the artifice had been crafted with delicate care to allow for the coexistence of disparate species. All those resources, all that effort, had been expended to create mental ease and well-being.

Bailey pinched the bridge of his nose, turning in his chair to view the two individuals sitting across the table from him. In light of everything he'd just considered, he hoped his associates could understand how truly agitated his "well-being" currently was. Bailey considered an educating lecture.

Bailey frowned at the Drell before him. The young man had light green skin, was clad in black leather, and had a detached look about him. Kolyat Krios betrayed no emotion at all. It didn't bother the Commander that Kolyat's vague reptilian face hardly needed to blink. A decade working Citadel Security had drummed such reservations from him long ago.

He shook his head again, scratching at the eye-patch that covered one of his eyes. The requisition was in for his cybernetic replacement, but he could never seem to free up the time for the surgery.

He glared with his good eye at Krios, "Kolyat, you are here because Investigator Parasini needs your unique set of skills."

"Anything I should know?" rasped Kolyat.

Bailey shook his head, "better to let the Inspector tell you, it's not the kind of thing that needs to be aired around. Just thinking about it is giving me ulcers…"

A striking young brunette smiled back at him. She was wearing a no-nonsense business suit, the kind that spoke to military precision, if not necessarily rank.

Gianna Parasini was one of the Internal Security forces that worked with C-Sec from time to time. Her job primarily dealt with white-collar crimes.

"Contrary to popular belief, sometimes, my work involves more than just paperwork and fancy parties."

"Apparently, so why do you need me?"

"I needed the best, and Commander Bailey suggested you…though not by name, of course."

It wasn't common knowledge that he was the son of the late Thane Krios, a master assassin. Most people who knew about Thane were either in the Hanar hierarchy, and not willing to talk; or they were dead, and unable to speak in any case.

"I'm sure you, especially, can appreciate the need for discretion, so what's the mission?"

Gianna tossed him a dossier, "some of those faces should be familiar."

The Drell picked up the file, flipping through actual pages, "huh."

Parasini smirked, "yeah, I know, old school, but I didn't want to leave a trail, so burn that after you are done reading it. I trust you won't have trouble remembering?"

Kolyat glanced through the readouts. As most denizens of his species, Kolyat had innate perfect memory. It allowed him to recall anything he desired, and sometimes things he didn't. His people called it Solipsism.

The Drell came across the picture of a dour looking man with a thin mustache.

"Elias Kelham? He's still alive?"

Gianna nodded, "yeah, he's been operating under the radar of late. I understand he used to be more of a known presence."

"You could say that," replied Bailey, "I think I preferred it when he was a trumped up hoodlum, paying assassins to do his dirty work."

Kolyat's lips twitched slightly, having been one of those trigger-men in the past. Fortunately, the correspondences had always been via courier, so nobody would ID him anytime soon.

"He's started building up his forces," clarified Parasini, "governing street law as determined by his new associate…"

Kolyat turned to the next page, seeing a nondescript man with pepper gray hair and an all too familiar (and fake) smile.

"Charles…Saracino…the leader of Terra Firma?"

Parasini sighed, "of late, the party's dealings have become…distressing."

"'Humanity First' has always been their creed," said Bailey, "a backlash from before the Reaper War, they say, when their opponents openly campaigned as anti-Human."

"This is different," said the Inspector, "Saracino is putting away more money than needed to support his run for Office."

Kolyat started flipping through manifests for black market shipments. There was no hard evidence, but unmarked containers arriving from the Terminus rarely turned out to be anything but contraband.

"So what's his angle?" asked Kolyat, "he's using his status to smuggle goods for his new friend Kelham?"

"Perhaps in an effort to buy votes," continued Gianna, "and probably more. Imagine if he gets Kelham weapons and drugs enough to control any underworld traffic in Citadel space"

Kolyat nodded, following the reasoning, "gets in bed with the gangsters, campaigns on cracking down on crime. Kelham forces out the competition, so the public thinks his plan is working…"

"But all we are really getting is more powerful, more organized crime, potentially with control over everything else as well," finished Bailey, "trust me, we don't need people like THEM holding our strings."

Kolyat nodded, "indeed, it seems you've finally managed to break in the current Council…tolerating yet another parade of politicians doesn't seem…tenable."

Bailey sniffed, "well, I DID help them organize the militia Shepard left in our hands. Things are finally working right again…"

Gianna grinned, "from what I hear, Valern owes him an eye from that little tussle with the Reapers."

"Maybe," the Commander grinned, before sobering, "seriously though we don't know the scope of what we are dealing with…"

"We'll be stepping on the toes of very well connected people," Gianna nodded, "I didn't expect to find such a hornet's nest…"

"I'll be careful Investigator," said Kolyat, nodding at Parasini.

Bailey sighed, shaking his head, "good luck, son…"

The crowd gathered was more varied than Kolyat would have thought. Red and blue hues reflected off the sleek metal vistas of the Upper Wards.

The Terra Firma party was holding a rally. Of course the overly zealous were there. Quite a few non-humans were present as well, either apologists or opponents to the radicals.

All of it was background noise. Kolyat had donned a large hooded duster. He preferred the anonymity it provided. If nobody looked closely behind his scarf, one couldn't tell whether he was human.

The proceedings seemed to be coming to a close. Kolyat didn't care; he wasn't here for the rally anyway. According to Investigator Parasini, Saracino liked to frequent a bar nearby, most likely to hide his dealings. Unfortunately, it was invite only, and locked up fairly tight, even for Kolyat.

Most times, such a thing wouldn't have stopped him, but this wasn't a hit, it was recon, and he needed…a defter touch. The Drell calmly made his way to the outskirts of the crowd, catching sight of what he was looking for.

Kolyat smiled, drawing up to an unobtrusive group of street urchins. They started to scatter as he approached, but settled after he whistled to them.

"Greetings, little cousins," said Kolyat.

The youths nodded back at him. It was a code among the Duct Rats, the forgotten and overlooked children who made their homes in the invisible corners of the Citadel.

It also made them the best spies. And Mouse, one of their few elders, and a leader, had been a friend for a while now.

Kolyat hefted a few credits towards one of the lads, "for Mouse's trouble."

He grinned, bringing out another small bag, "and for yours…"

Krios had something of a kinship with the Duct Rats, and couldn't help spoiling them with candy once in a while. Money could be taken, but nobody was going to hassle them over sweets. They nodded to him, all taking eager note.

"How many you want on this?" asked one of the older children.

"One should suffice," he replied, drawing out a small listening device, and a transmitter, "need one of you to plant the bug on the politician, then stay in range to pick up audio."

One of the smaller children snatched the bugs from Kolyat, "try to keep up…cousin!"

In a flash, the child was gone. As trained as Kolyat was in espionage and stealth, he barely saw the Duct Rat vanish into the crowd. Krios nodded, placing a second receiver in his ear.

Kolyat keyed in on Elias Kelham, who seemed to be head of security. It was a front, of course, but that hardly mattered. Before long, Saracino finished his speech, joining Kelham's "security detail" as he exited the stage.

"I'm done with the crowd," grunted the politician, "I have a meeting to attend."

"Maya already set us up," Kelham nodded, "follow me…"

The Drell raised an eyebrow. He was already hearing the conversation. That was quick, and well done. Kolyat reminded himself to pay the Duct Rat a little extra for the fast work…

As Kolyat followed the pair, with their thugs in tow, he couldn't help but notice the silence. Saracino wasn't speaking, not even the slightest of vague pleasantries to constituents, just waves and nods. Something was on the man's mind…

All too soon, they entered the bar and club. Kolyat saw a wisp of a shadow slip into the vents nearby. He listened to his earpiece, but got only static. The spy clucked his tongue in disappointment.

Well, he'd expected as much. He'd just have to get the particulars from the device he'd handed the Rat, once the meeting was over…


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The approach to the Council chambers was a measured one. The Citadel was such an old structure, Shepard could not be sure what the original plans were for the construction.

However, the image presented to visitors was unmistakable, one of grace and power. The entrance to the ramp was meant to be perfect, a manicured lawn surrounding the immaculate bridge. On either side of this, the pristine blue water of an artificial lake shimmered.

Shepard made his approach, presenting his credentials to the security gate, before making his way into an elevator. The approach to the anteroom was no less impressive. The elevator rocketed into the Heavens, it seemed, affording its guests a breathtaking view of the Presidium, the lush, uppermost ward of the Citadel.

The SPECTRE was sure the vista was meant to impress, but he'd made the trip too many times to gape in awe.

"Kind of loses its grandeur, once you've seen it destroyed," he whispered.

Beside him, Liara nodded, "although I can't help but appreciate the view, considering what it took to rebuild it. Saving the Galaxy was no small task…"

Shepard grunted, appreciating Liara's attempts to assuage his guilt. He couldn't help but see the flames that had once dominated the vistas. Not for the first time, the visions of his past began to blur together.

The elevator stopped, jarring Shepard from his reverie. He turned from the windowed view outside, walking out into the anteroom of the Council Hall.

He glanced skyward, noting the pink petals of the trees above, covering the skyline. Though he knew they were not native to earth, Shepard couldn't help but think the foliage seemed like that of the cherry blossom trees that bloomed back home.

"Well," came a gravelly voice, "don't you look official?"

Shepard turned with a grin, grasping hands with a tall scaly Turian in silver and blue armor, "Garrus! Good to see you!"

Garrus brought his other arm to clap Shepard's back in a quick hug, "good to see you out and about."

"I heard they finally made you a SPECTRE," smiled Shepard, "congratulations."

Garrus cocked his head to the side, "well, Turian command TRIED to make me a damn general…but…"

"You're a terrible soldier," recalled Shepard, "they tried the same with me."

"I swear," groaned Liara, "you two are masochists…"

Garrus laughed, clasping hands with the Asari.

Shepard glanced behind Garrus, catching sight of Quarian in her full purple containment suit. He was still getting used to seeing her without her face-mask, though the effect was not an unwelcome sight.

"Glad to see the immunizations are working for you. How've you been Tali?"

Tali's hands lifted from her hips, drawing Shepard up in an embrace, "you boshtet! Why haven't I seen you? Liara and I go out almost every week!"

Shepard chuckled, calmly backing away, "sorry Tali, the Council's been running me fairly ragged lately; Garrus too, from what I hear."

Tali glanced downwards, somberly, "yes, the Admiralty has been trying to do much the same to me."

"Well," offered Garrus, "she IS an admiral."

"In name only," countered Tali, "I'd rather not take responsibility for an entire fleet!"

"So what brings you here?" asked Liara.

"Overseeing Zaal'Koris' appointment to the Council," said Tali, "as well as…the new Geth Ambassador…"

Shepard arched an eyebrow, "Geth Ambassador?"

The Quarian sighed, running a hand over her hood, "it's a long story…"

Shepard nodded, as Garrus took him aside. The human SPECTRE noticed a subtle gesture to Liara, who started up a conversation with Tali.

The two SPECTRES moved over to a balcony overlooking the Presidium. Hovercars glimmered in the distance, darting far above the cityscape below.

"So," started Shepard, "how are things between you and Tali?"

Garrus sniffed, shaking his head, "the shy kid you recruited during that mess with Saren? She's completely gone; and in her place is a strong-minded firebrand of a woman. Not that I'm complaining."

Shepard couldn't help but notice the wry grin on Garrus' face, elbowing him in the ribs, "you seem to be doing alright."

"Mmm, I'm more worried about how I'm going to explain our assignments. There are some strange things going on out there."

He nodded, "I know. The Council swears that we killed the Reapers, so it's only a matter of time before the cleanup is done on the Fallen."

"Evil like that doesn't vanish overnight," replied Garrus, "in the meantime, we have holdouts to deal with, watch your back…"

Shepard nodded, arching an eyebrow, as he caught sight of something, "hello, is that…Bakara?"

The Turian grunted, "yeah, and who's that with her?"

The human looked beside the tall Krogan woman clad in robes, to the larger male beside her. He was adorned in old gray armor, dark green robes flowing from facets in the breastplate.

Shepard grinned, as both SPECTRES neared the Krogan, "the Shaman of Clan Urdnot! What brings you to the citadel?"

"It's nice to see you, Bakara," added the Turian, with a small bow of the head.

She tilted her head as well, "ah Garrus, Wrex never tires of regaling me with tales of his exploits with you and Shepard…like an old man recounting his glory years…"

"He can't be THAT past his prime," Shepard laughed, "how many children do you have so far?"

"Indeed, you'll have to come see them sometime."

Shepard nodded, "next time I drop by Tuchanka, how is the terraforming?"

"Tuchanka is a stubborn planet," replied the Shaman, "much like the Krogan. But we are rebuilding…which is what brings us here today…"

"We nominated him for the Krogan seat on the Council," explained Bakara.

"I hear it was you who put the fool notion in her head," joked the Krogan male.

"Guilty as charged," he laughed.

"Anything I should know about the Councilors?" asked the Shaman.

"Valern and Quentius are old hands at this," offered Garrus, "they can be stubborn, but they aren't stupid. And the humility they had to swallow during our war with the Reapers has been good for them."

"I know the new Asari Councilor," replied Shepard, "she's ex-military, and sharp as a tack. The crazy half-Krogan tends to be more proactive than others of her race, which is refreshing in a Matriarch."

The Shaman grinned, "I like her already…"

A polite chime drew their attention from the conversation.

"Well," said Garrus, "looks like the Council is in session."

"Good luck," said Shepard.

"You as well," replied Bakara, "from all reports, you will need it more than we will…"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Charles Saracino sat in a lounge with no windows. It was one of the bar's VIP rooms, supposedly for "special services" rendered by the dancers, or for private parties and poker games.

He wasn't intending to use the room for any such purposes. Near the end of the Reaper War, the Chairman had found himself in a position to garner wayward Cerberus resources. At the time, he had feared being branded a traitor by his own people. On hindsight, it was such actions that had raised him to his current position.

The politician was seated at a circular table, the lamp suspended above casting a cone of light, but failing to illuminate the rest of the room. Just behind him, Elias Kelham stood guard.

He received a non-vocal message over his omnitool from an old Cerberus contact, now serving as his "secretary" and logistics expert.

"Not long now," said Saracino, checking his watch, a genuine analog from Earth.

As if on queue, holograms coalesced around the table, projected via a system of secure channels that Saracino had his experts maintain.

The four figures were shrouded, presumably to protect their identities. One figure, the instigator of this summit, was in the center of the circle, the rest of them surrounding him.

This wasn't the first, but these meetings always left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Paladins," greeted said the figure in the middle, "the Council should be convening any moment now."

A vaguely masculine voice answered him. The only thing Charles knew about the figure was that he was a Batarian. Even with the filtering, because of the mannerisms, the vocal cadence, he could tell. Their two species had been at war far too long for the politician to misinterpret such a detail.

"I thought the human said they wouldn't be a problem, isn't Cerberus good for ANYTHING anymore?"

Saracino sneered at the holo, though he knew the alien on the other side couldn't see it, "I'll remind you that the bitch Miranda Lawson runs effectively half of our former forces. I'm working on picking up the remaining free hires."

"I'm surprised she hasn't managed to kill you," replied the other, "you sure you aren't in league with Shepard?"

The figure in the middle rippled at mention of the name.

The man allowed his bile to register in his reply, "don't throw me in with him. I wouldn't be surprised if he shacked up with another alien, maybe even one of your own women…"

He paused a moment before laying the final dig, "that is, assuming you have any left on Karshaan, after the Reapers."

Let the alien consider that, Saracino knew full well what he was dealing with, and perhaps even more…

The Batarian's growl was forceful enough to cause his image to flicker, "when I control all of our armies, I'll be happy to-"

"ENOUGH!" echoed the voice in the center, "this bickering is pointless."

A feminine voice chimed in response, "as…ardent as the two gentlemen were, they managed to raise a problem. How do I know my effort amounts to anything?"

The fourth voice, modulated beyond the ability to tell even gender, agreed, "indeed, I am not in the habit of working with shades…at least not ones that aren't in MY keeping…"

The voice in the center nodded, "though you may surmise, you cannot directly know each other's identities yet. However…"

The image became clearer, revealing brown, chitinous armor underneath flowing gray robes. The figure was bipedal, insectoid. Several pairs of glowing yellow eyes adorned the flat, emotionless, ashen face.

"Perhaps it is time you knew mine," his voice became clear, a deep, guttural voice that reverberated off the walls.

Shivers crawled up Saracino's spine, "a Collector?! I thought Shepard killed all of you!"

The eyes narrowed, "not all of us, an oversight he shall regret soon enough."

"Well," commented the female, in what Saracino could finally recognize was a Quarian accent, "that certainly explains your ability to gather so many resources."

Part of the reason Saracino had joined this cabal was the wealth of technology and intel they had provided. Without the edge the Paladins offered, Saracino could never have risen, from mere enforcer, to effectively taking on the Illusive Man's former mantle.

Even still, if not for that damnable Miranda Lawson, all of Cerberus would have been under his thumb. As it was, her newly formed "Orthos" stood as an affront to everything he stood for. But subservience wasn't only an Alliance trait, the Reapers had engendered such behavior in their own thralls, which was distressing…

"A Collector," mused the Batarian, "how do we know you aren't going to try and start another Reaper War?"

"I am Atrayus," announced the Collector, "a General amongst our people, before the Reapers enslaved us. They left a few of us with barely enough autonomy to control the rest. I have since…broken free of my shackles."

"Are there more of you?" asked the Quarian.

"Soon enough…"

That didn't sound ominous…not at all. Saracino ran a hand through his hair, breathing deeply.

"So, what do we do now?"

"You each have your assigned tasks," said Atrayus, "human, you will undermine the Council's efforts, biding your time while amassing more recruits to our cause."

He turned to the Batarian and Quarian respectively, "you each will continue with our experiments, allowing us to grow the power of our forces."

Atrayus turned to the final figure, "and you Salarians will continue researching the Dark Energy codex."

The figure nodded, "yes, a power great enough to concern even the mighty Reapers is an asset we cannot afford to lose."

"And what will you be doing?" demanded the Batarian.

The Collector narrowed his eyes again, "I am working on an initiative to increase our attack forces, and blind our enemies."

Atrayus glanced over each of the four members arrayed around him. His translucent wings twitched as if in annoyance.

"Once you have accomplished our primary objectives, we strike," asserted the Collector, "then you may snap at each others heels, and claim your corners of the universe."

Saracino received an information packet via his omnitool as the holos faded, bringing the meeting to a close.

He almost choked as he saw the readouts. The credits alone were staggering enough. But the data caches were even more impressive, detailed technological schematics, and further resources that left him speechless.

Saracino left the room, Kelham and his detail clearing the way. The politician's mind didn't even register the rest of the club, so deep was he in thought.

He brought out a cigarette as he exited the bar, shaking his head.

Elias Kelham flicked open a lighter for his associate, "so remind me why we're in bed with these assholes?"

"This fragile alliance with the Council can't last," Saracino grunted, "we need their resources to consolidate what is left of Cerberus. Only with power and order can humanity be safe."

"The barbarians are at the gates," Kelham replied, "and 'Orthos' isn't helping."

"This tech will give us the edge we need," continued the Terra Firma leader, "besides, once we run the Citadel, it won't matter who they are, nor what deals we've had to make. The aliens can keep the Terminus, leaving humanity's role secure."

Kelham was about to reply when he saw a glimmer on the side of Saracino's coat sleeve; and the flickering shadow in the ventilation near the bar was like an alarm claxon going off in his head.

Elias took out his pistol, an illegal silencer mod on it, and fired into the ductwork. He then picked up the listening bug off Saracino's coat, dropping it to the floor and stomping on it.

"You two, get him back to Agent Brooks!" he ordered, "and you three, come with me…"

It had happened so fast, Kolyat hadn't had time to react. He'd only just heard a few lines before Charles Saracino was rushed from the scene.

He stood transfixed as the Cerberus thugs dragged out a young human girl into the street. Elias Kelham shook his head.

"Damn Duct Rats," the man growled, "Mouse isn't going to run any extortions on us…"

As Krios saw the man put another round in the dead child's skull, something in the Drell broke.

Someone must have seen the event, because he heard screaming. Kolyat sprang from his cover like a loaded gun, as the men turned around to find the source of the noise.

He needed to take them out fast, but the gun was too good for them…these men would suffer…

Kolyat rushed into the men with a biotic charge, leaping into the air as he drew close. His right hand wrapped around a man's throat, crushing it, before slamming the same fist into the ground.

_"One…"_

As the remaining three were flung in the air from his Nova blast, Kolyat flung another biotic field. The Reave drained a second Cerberus operative, husking the man before the colliding fields shattered him in a biotic explosion.

_"Two…"_

The third Cerberus man, somehow, rose to his feet, drawing a gun. Kolyat sidestepped the shot, circling around the assailant's arm, pulling backwards at the elbow and breaking it in one fluid motion.

As the thug doubled over in pain, Kolyat wrapped his leg around the thug's neck, bringing the larger man down with a crunch. As he crouched, the Drell squeezed his leg until he heard a snap, ceasing all movement from the gunman.

_"Three…"_

Elias Kelham was transfixed in horror, slowly bringing his gun up. Kolyat almost laughed, gesturing with an arm, as he biotically lifted the man into the air.

The screaming had finally stopped, and Kolyat realized that it had been his voice all along. He shook his head, his throat raw.

_"Four…"_

The gun fell from Kelham's nerveless fingers, and Krios slowly got to his feet, drawing a knife as he sauntered up to the prone, yet aerial figure.

"Listen, I can-"

The knife made no sound as it entered Kelham's chest, just under the sternum. The man sputtered, coughing up blood.

"I'm sorry," whispered Kolyat, "I can't hear you…I believe humans need a diaphragm to breathe…and subsequently…to speak…"

Kelham's eyes widened, rolling to the back of his sockets, his face turning blue from lack of oxygen. His body dropped, twitching its final moments on the ground.

It was an agonizing way to die, but Kolyat didn't stay to watch, turning instead to the dead child.

He shook his head, closing the girl's eyes, as he placed her hands on her chest.

_"Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness…"_

He closed his own eyes, shaking his head. Four lives for one…it seemed too steep a price to pay. The child was worth more.

A critical part in Kolyat's mind concerned itself with how he would mask what had just happened. There wasn't enough time to clean the scene.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Krios turned, seeing a group of street toughs, drunkenly wandering out of the bar. Likely, this was their territory.

"Fuckin' aliens," grunted a large one, drawing out a length of chain, "killing humans on our turf is a good way to die…"

Kolyat grinned from ear to ear, "well, THIS is convenient…"

He had his patsies…and it looked like the Duct Rat would have more souls to usher her to the sands beyond after all…


End file.
